


Graveyard

by QSF



Series: Crossroads [3]
Category: Kamen Rider Black, Kamen Rider Blade, Kamen Rider Fourze, Kamen Rider Kuuga
Genre: M/M, dealing with grief, spoliers for all the shows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 03:45:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1729931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QSF/pseuds/QSF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, every time someone dies, someone gets left behind. </p><p>Set about 50 years after the end of Kuuga. Spoilers for Kuuga, Fourze and the end of Blade and Black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Graveyard

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned. I am sad and writing sad things.

  
The service had been short and private, just like they had planned. Ichijou had never had a need for ceremony when alive, and he had even less need for it dead. Neither had Godai, but he suffered through what little there was all the same. He needed to remember this moment. The final entry on their list. Not his list. Theirs.

Of course he cried.

Not that it changed anything. Ichijou was still dead. They had got a little over fifty years together and maybe that should have been enough. It was more than he had hoped for when they met.

And of course it wasn't enough.

"So you came." Godai forced a smile as he saw the gangly rider loiter near the entrance to the cemetery. Kenzaki Kazuma was as unchanging as he was, wrestling with a different curse but suffering a similar fate. Maybe a crueller one in some ways.

"I didn't want to intrude, so I waited out here." There were new lines on his face, so quick to flit between seriousness and goofy grimaces. Not from aging he supposed, but the effort of keeping the Joker Undead contained had to show in some ways. The human skin wearing thinner each decade.

"I've said my goodbyes, he wouldn't mind if you did the same. He liked you." Godai looked back over his shoulder, still feeling a bit unreal as if this time it was Ichijou that had left on a journey somewhere he could not follow. Was this what his husband had felt every time he left the country? If so, Godai had been crueller than he had ever known.

"Maybe later." Kenzaki looked a bit uncertain, looking intently at Godai's expression. "I've had enough of cemeteries to last me a while."

They were fundamentally different, the Undead and the Grongi, but in this they were alike. Their lifespans were long enough to dwarf an ordinary human's, and right now they had lived long enough that everyone they had known when young were slowly dying off. Soon there would be nobody left, and then maybe things would get easier Or harder. Godai wasn't sure.

He had long since come to terms with the fact that no matter what the Grongi had turned into at the end, they had been human at first. As human as he was. The amadam changed your body, but he had never really thought about what changed your mind. Not until now. Maybe they Grongi hadn't been born bad, maybe they had just lived too long. Maybe they had seen everyone they cared about die, then found new ones and watched them die again. No wonder death was treated with such casualness in their games. Had it been relief on some of the faces of the monsters he killed? That finally it was enough? They could stop? From what Kenzaki had told him it was different with the Undead, being sealed was not the same as dying, and there was an afterlife of sort. Or maybe an inner world. Godai wasn't sure he had really understood it.

He wasn't sure if he believed in an afterlife either.

"Come on, let's get a cup of tea." Kenzaki put a hand on his shoulder, then jerked it back and tried not to grimace.

"I'm sorry," Godai said with a small shrug, finding his centre and doused the fire that always smouldered inside. Kenzaki would heal, but some people might get hurt, and the world was so fragile around him. Like Ichijou had been the last year. Torture. Watching the formerly strong man in the hospital, playing the dutiful grandson…

"It's fine," Kenzaki said, interrupting his pain with a large smile that Godai recognized from looking in the mirror. "There's no rationing this summer, let's take advantage of that and get some anko as well."

"Maybe things are changing for the better," Godai admitted quietly, falling in stride next to the taller man. It wasn't Ichijou, but the company felt nice all the same.

"Hopefully." Kenzaki blew a little on his fingers, rubbing the burns as they healed. "Hajime says these things come and go."

"Have you talked to him lately?" Godai was all too willing to change the subject from himself. The other Joker Undead was the reason Kenzaki rarely visited Tokyo, but here in Nagano where Ichijou's family tomb was located, the distance was enough to leave him with a clear head.

"Yesterday. Jou is graduating soon, and he had no idea what to get her." Hajime was perhaps the one of their loosely affiliated group of near immortals that dealt with their situation the best. He didn't love a single person, he loved a family. He loved his adopted daughter Amane and all her children, his grandchildren and their children. Not by blood but by heart. Learning to be human might be a work in progress, but there was progress. Maybe it was easier if you started out a monster.

"Any changes in your relationship?" Godai always hoped for that, Kenzaki deserved more.

"We meet up once a year still. That much we can do." Kenzaki's smile was sad as he pushed the door open, entering into the blissfully cool air of the small cafe. "At least comcells has made talking nicer these days."

"Still..." Godai looked around as Kenzaki ordered for them, watching the crowds thicken as the afternoon commute begun. So many people, and still not nearly like in Tokyo. You could see the sky here still. The mountains. The mountain.

"We are dealing with it. ...are you?" The question was blunt as usual, Kenzaki rarely beat around the bush. Godai looked away from the direction where he knew Mount Kuro rested. Instead he started playing with one of the napkins, folding it into a bird shape.

"I'm grieving," he said simply. It was the truth and Kenzaki deserved it. "But I knew this day would come since we realized I wasn't aging."

"So did we." Kenzaki looked a little uncomfortable as he scratched his neck. Unlike Godai, who had been experimenting with varying hair and beard over the years, the other rider's shaggy mane seemed glued to his head. "That's why I'm here."

"To see if I am about to become dangerous?" Godai smiled as mildly as he could, but his face could not quite fit that emotion any longer.

"No," the word was almost an exclamation before Kenzaki sheepishly continued: "Though I'd feel a lot calmer if you stopped making that napkin smoke."

Godai looked down at the bird he had been folding, the soft, white napkin had turned brown as if he had held it over an open flame, his fingerprints marking the paper. It took an effort to stop, and he crumpled the bird in his hand in a surprisingly cathartic act of frustration.

"We're here to make sure you're okay." Kenzaki leaned forward a little, earnest gaze trying to catch hold of Godai's. "You were there for us when we needed it, this is where we return that favour."

"I'm fine," Godai lied, but he didn't make a thumb's up.

"No. You're not." Kenzaki's face was slowly turning serious, Godai felt as if he could feel the Joker behind it, instead of a normal, human skull.

"And if you really are right to be worried?" he asked lightly. "Do you think you could stop me?"

It had crossed his mind more than once. Would Kuuga be stronger than the Joker? In a way, he really wanted to find that out. More than once he had found himself casually pondering forms and attack patterns, but then he went away for a while until the urge to destroy left him once more.

"I..." Kenzaki laughed, looking a bit embarrassed. "Not really I suppose. But I would have to. You know that. And I wouldn't' be alone."

"You are now," Godai pointed out, smiling at the waitress as she came with their tea and wagashi.

"Ankh is keeping an eye on us," Kenzaki returned an equally light and false smile. "He didn't want to talk though, I think it hits a little too close to home for him. Eiji is old. Besides, even if you take us both out, Hajime would know."

"You really thought about it." Godai didn't know whether to be sad or proud, because right now everything felt numb.

"I had to!" Kenzaki's voice cracked a little. "Onodera told me what Kuuga could become if you let it, and that was his Kuuga. You're a lot stronger than he is."

"He always underestimates himself." Maybe the smile was fond. Maybe the smile was just there. Godai wasn't even sure anymore. The tea tasted bitter and cold, though it was boiling in the cup as he sipped it.

"Do we need to go somewhere outside town?" Kenzaki hadn't touched his tea; he was perched on the edge of the seat as if he expected to be attacked at any moment.

"No, I..." Godai forced out a breath and then put down the cup before he broke it. "I won't fight you. If I do, then you'll be killed, and Hajime will be the lone surviving Joker. I suppose you didn't think about that."

"Crap." Kenzaki grimaced. "But I'm serious, Godai, you're really freaking me out right now."

"I guess that if I did kill you, then there would be an invasion of Undead to deal with. And Hajime." So many creatures to fight. "Maybe I could save the world again." The laugh was soft, and not meant to be mocking but he supposed that it might have sounded that way.

Was he frightening right now? Kenzaki looked scared. He didn't mean to act like this but he wasn't sure he knew how to stop. Ichijou was gone. The one that had made it all worth it. The one that had given him an anchor and a home, and now he was adrift again, but he wasn't Godai Yuusuke, adventurer. He was Kuuga. a step and a prayer away from the ultimate darkness.

"Godai Yuusuke!" It wasn't fair of Kenzaki to use Ichijou's words, but they were enough to nail him to the chair with a blow to his guts painful enough that had it been physical his amadam might have cracked. "There's people here. You need to calm the hell down."

"You... are right." Godai looked out the window, at the people passing like a river of life. In a corner the waitress was chatting with an old lady that seemed to be a regular. A few tables away, a shy young girl was playing with her comcell. "Thank you. Sometimes I need to be reminded."

"Reminded that it is not nice to burn things down?" Kenzaki was joking, but the worry was still there.

"No, that other people still are smiling. Or at least they should be." He wasn't sure when he might smile again, but maybe it was enough that the world around him did.

There was a moment of hesitation before Kenzaki reached out and grabbed Godai's hands, cradling them in his own. "If you want to... we can find a way."

"I don't want to die." Godai smiled, and it was a sad one, but it felt real, and it made the other rider relax and look sheepish once more. "He would be disappointed in me."

"He would never be disappointed in you." Kenzaki spoke with conviction.

"I would be disappointed in myself then." It was tempting to just do what the ancient Kuuga had done and go to sleep somewhere. Be dormant, waiting until someone claimed the amadam.

"What are you going to do then?" Kenzaki let go and rubbed his palms together.

"Kotaro invited me to come travel with him for a while."

"Kotaro? You know he's just going to drag you off and fight another resurfaced Golgom cell or something." Kenzaki grimaced a little.

"I'm hoping he will." Godai knew that maybe it wasn't good for him to want to fight right now. But it was the lesser danger of all the paths that he could see spread out in front of him right now.

"Oh well." Kenzaki leaned back, looking a little relieved. "At least I can trust Kotaro to keep an eye on you."

"I'm surprised he's not here."

"He trusts you." The shrug was simple.

Minami Kotaro had seen the worst in mankind, and the best. Godai had to respect that. Had to respect a man who fought and killed his own brother rather than seeing him continue to serve an evil greater than them all. If he thought that...

"I see." Godai let out a sigh he had not really been aware that he was holding. Kotaro trusted him to get through this. Trusted him because he had been through the same and come out the other way intact. "Let's hope he's right then."

The smile they shared was a good one, Kenzaki's face finally lighting up like it only did when talking about Hajime, and Godai found himself joining in. The thumb's up was a thought this time and not a reflex, because Ichijou had been right all along.

Dying wasn't the hard part. It was being left behind with the grief. But Godai had promised Ichijou when they finally married that it was alright. That the memories would be worth the pain. And maybe there was no heaven, no afterlife, and maybe it was like Ryotaro had said that as long as there were memories, nothing truly died.

And if that was the case, Ichijou would live forever.

 


	2. Desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend gave me another prompt because he wanted a happier ending.

  
Six months.

Six months had been nothing when once it was everything. It had once taken six months for him from meeting the man of his dreams to talk himself into kissing him. But now, six months were just another blip in too long a life, and Godai couldn't decide whether it was better or worse that the memories remained.

He had fought, armour flickering in and out like fire and smoke under Kotaro's watchful eyes. They had skipped from continent to continent, two months in South America, which held memories of a different sort. A week in Alaska which had left Godai kneeling in the snow in Kotaro's arms, snowflakes touching the blackness of his armour briefly before they melted. They went south after that. Inner Mongolia was still Golgom territory, and old evils died hard. Godai knew that, he only hoped he would never become one himself. It would be so easy.

At least Kotaro understood. They kept moving because then he didn't have to look back, kept fighting because in a way that helped. Once Godai had been hard pressed to throw a punch that wasn't in self-defence, but now... it was like Tsubaki had said. He was a living weapon bred for battle, and it was up to himself to make sure he was never pointed at his friends.

What would happen when he ran out of places to run?

The earth was so small these days. Maybe he should do what Eiji had once suggested and start walking. No shortcuts anywhere, just walking from country to country, from life to life and do good. But Eiji was a better man than him, and Godai had never... no. He was unfair to himself there, he knew it. Ichijou would give him the look, and then chide him about not giving himself enough credit, but Ichijou was gone and he would never be able to tease a smile out of the quiet man again.

At least Mongolia had stars out here in the desert. At least it was desolate enough that he could stand on a hill and just let himself burn for a little and not harm anything but bugs and scorpions scrambling for cover. He knew he was keeping Kotaro up, his display must tear at the shattered remains of the kingstone inside the other man, but he understood enough to let him have his privacy.

And yet, someone was approaching.

Godai doused the flames with a little effort as he turned around, no more hurting avatar of the Ultimate Darkness, just a tired man that had lost the only person he had really, truly loved.

"Yo!" The stranger held up a hand in greeting, the smile wide and bright enough to match the stars. It took Godai a few moments to realize who was actually standing in front of him, and a few more to find the strength to work through the confusion and speak.

"Gentaro?" It couldn't be, it shouldn't be. Gentaro had been a normal kid, well, if anything about him could ever be called normal. But he was one of the Riders that had used technology, not ancient curses, and he and Ichijou had been invited to his fiftieth birthday party together with the rest of the old teacher's friends and there were many. If Godai collected skills, Gentaro collected friends, and sometimes he wondered if his life wouldn't have been better had he done that.

"Kotaro said you were up here. That's not exactly nice of you, keeping him up like that, worrying." Gentaro shuffled up the dune, not the old man Godai had seen last, but a young one, in his early thirties.

"How..." Godai shook his head, resisting the urge to shift into armour to be able to analyse what was standing in front of him. "Are you dead? Are you a ghost?" And if he was, no matter how much he liked the kid, it wasn't the ghost he wanted to see.

"I died long before this, you know." Gentaro pushed his hands into his pockets and came to a halt next to Godai. Taller. Ganglier. With a smile without an ounce of pretence in it. "Back in school. But they brought me back. My friends. Kengo. I nearly went to heaven even, I saw my family and everything. Oh boy, did I miss them." He scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile.

"I don't understand..." Godai shook his head, reaching out to touch. His hand met resistance. A warm shoulder. Alive.

"I mean that sucks, you know? If I went to be with my family, then I would leave my friends behind and they would be sad. So I came back. Because my family will always be there, you know? I don't think time really works the same way over there. They'll always be waiting, and it doesn't matter if it takes a long time."

"Gentaro." Godai forced himself to keep his voice under control. "How... are you here? Am I going crazy?"

"Well, just a little, but that's just 'cause you miss him. Tomoko told me to come get you before something bad happened."

"Tomoko..." Godai remembered the middle-aged woman with the secretive smile from the party, looking at him like she had seen... he didn't even know what. She'd looked equal parts horrified and fascinated, and then had shook his hand and told him that he did a great job.

"Yeah, it was lucky I wasn't that far away, but it still took a few weeks to swing by. The solar system's kinda busy these days."

"The solar system..." Godai felt like the sand was shifting under his feet, and he hunched down and focused on just breathing for a moment. The amadam still rested like a warm sun in his stomach, but his skin was cool. The sand was coarse when he buried his hands in it. The stars still casually shone in the dark sky above. Gentaro was there, hunched down in front of him. He could feel his presence. Smell it. See the way the sand pooled over his feet. Feel the weight of those large hands on his shoulders. It was a short list, but it was long enough. He wasn't hallucinating.

"Oh boy, I'm messing this up," Gentaro admitted with a laugh. "It's not that complicated. It's the cosmic energy. That's what brought me back. Sure, I got back in my body and thought everything was back to normal after I have died, but then a few years back I sort of stepped in the way of a blast and well, should have died again. It would have been worth it though, because that kid had a lot more life left ahead of them than me, and... well, then I understood what Nadeshiko had been talking about."

"I don't... so you are dead?"

"I told you, I was already dead, I just still possessed my body. And when it finally was destroyed, I could get my proper form, just like Nadeshiko. Check it out," Gentaro waved a hand in front of Godai's face, and it turned silvery and shimmering, like a handful of stars had come down to play catch. "I'm sentient cosmic energy now, isn't that just the coolest?"

Godai reached out to wrap his fingers around Gentaro's. Still warm, but stinging slightly, like holding sparks. "You always did say that cosmic energy was the power of friendship."

"And friendship is the strongest power in the universe." Gentaro's smile lit up the surrounding desert. "I've been out there since then, with Nadeshiko and Platform XVII. It's really kind of amazing."

"I can imagine..." Godai couldn't help but answer the smile with one of his own, because the universe couldn't be such a horrible place if it still went out of its way to make sure that Gentaro was alright. The world was better with Fourze in it. Brighter. It somehow made it more fair that not only old monsters lived forever, but also people like this.

"So... wanna come along?" Gentaro rose to his feet, offering Godai a hand up, which he took after a moment's hesitation. "There's a whole universe out there to see, you'll never grow bored."

"Me? Go into space?" Godai couldn't help the sheepish laugh, because he'd been travelling all his life but he had never really looked further than the next horizon.

"We come back now and again, to check on people. But I was thinking that maybe right now you might need to travel a bit? To get your head straight and stop freaking out your friends?"

"Are you freaking out?" Godai couldn't help the sad smile any more than he could help the flames. Neither made Gentaro flinch.

"Well, that's the thing about space you know. It's so black. In a way it really is the ultimate darkness. But..." Gentaro pointed to the skies, and Godai looked up despite himself. "It's also full of stars."

"I just miss him..." Godai couldn't hold back the sob any longer, and neither could Gentaro

The hug was hard and desperate, and it went on. It was easier to cry when someone else did as well, and Gentaro had never been shy with sharing his feelings. And maybe it felt better letting the grief out, letting the sand turn to glass around him and his veins to fire and yet Gentaro felt warm in his arms. Warmer than him. Brighter.

It was not until later, when the glass had cooled to a surface that reflected the approaching dawn that Godai finally let go, taking a deep, cleansing breath.

"Feel better?" Gentaro punched Godai's shoulder lightly, raising an eyebrow.

"A bit." Godai looked around sheepishly. "I guess I'd better go apologize to Kotaro for worrying him."

"Yeah, that was pretty spectacular," Gentaro admitted. "And he might have breakfast. That's the worst thing about space, you know? The food is all weird. Weird good a lot of the time, but other times it's just weird. You'll see..."

"Are you so sure I'll come then?"

"Of course you will!" Gentaro held out his fist for his special handshake. "We're friends, and right now that's what you need."

Going through the motions of the elaborate handshake, Godai felt the smile on his face relax for the first time in years. Gentaro had been right. He needed to travel, and space... even the Ultimate Darkness might be dwarfed by cosmic scales, and he wouldn't mind being insignificant again. He wouldn't mind moving on either, but right now that felt impossible. So he supposed he'd start with just moving.

Every journey started with a single step.


End file.
